I’m currently working on a piece about Mauritius, but had to mention something else first.  Pizzas are not a specialty in Ethiopia, but we can go to the Hilton Hotel and get some fairly good ones.  While Terese is in the States with her new Grandson, I decided to have pizza tonight.  As I sat eating, a young mother came in with two little girls, who I guess was probably 6 and about 4.  The younger one had frizzy hair like that associated with a child that never sits still.

The Pizza Master creates his pizzas on a marble counter for all to see, which has a small shelf with some decorative items on it in front.  When the two little girls arrived, a waitress came and moved the table aside.  Then the girls dragged chairs from one of the tables over to the counter.  The older one knelt in her chair with arms crossed, resting on the counter, watching the Pizza Master, while the little frizzy headed one, stood in her chair watching with her elbows on the counter supporting her head.

Now I have to assume these little ones are regulars, since the waitress knew exactly what was needed as soon as they entered, but I was intrigued how the girls watched pizzas being made without reaching out to play with something on the counter.  I could not imagine my Grandsons sitting that still.

But then, the Pizza Master dropped a ball of dough in front of each girl along with a small wooden rolling pin.  They flattened the dough out, rolling and pushing here and there, then after a few minutes he added sauce.  The older girl used a spoon to carefully spread hers around, and the little one started out with a spoon, but then resorted to her hands.

Soon, a pile of cheese was added, then other ingredients were place within their reach.  After the two girls were satisfied with their creations, they clambered down and sat back at the table with Mommy.  I didn’t stay long enough to watch them receive their pizzas, but I can’t help thinking how proud they must be when their finished handiwork is delivered out of the brick oven, onto their plates.

I spent two weeks in Frankfurt Germany for training.  The classes were during the week leaving us the weekends to explore a very small part of the land of my ancestry, and do our best to avoid the pitfalls of debauchery.  The last Saturday, seven of us decided to take the train to Heidelberg for the day.  The seven included the wife of one and the girlfriend of another, thus keeping the conversations a little more refined.

We met at the Starbucks at the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof,- Train Station (below) and boarded the train about 10 in the morning and arrived about noon. Our one main goal is to see the famous Heidelberg castle which is in ruins, so we set out on foot in that direction.  That’s the best way to see many places in the world: on foot.   Below are some images from the castle.

 Inside the castle is what remains of the palace. Notice the amazing sculptures.

Energy saving clock on the building.

This door was on one of the walls in the courtyard.

 Looking down on the village of Heidelberg from the castle.

 We found a place in the basement of the palace to sit and buy a beer.  Afterwards, as we headed back to the train station, we stopped at one of the many places outside to eat.  Seems to be the favorite pastime of the German people, sitting and eating.

More on Frankfurt later.  See ya then.  D.

Many years ago, I worked as an appliance delivery boy with an old black man, who I would say was the most interesting man I met to that date.  His name was Jerry and he loved eating pig’s feet.  One day, he brought me one so I could try the delicacy, but after seeing it laying in what appeared to be solidified grease, I politely handed it back.  I realized, pig’s feet is not my idea of a fine meal.

So, we do know pigs have feet, which if extrapolated out, you can surmise they also have knuckles.  Imagine if you will, pigs walking fretfully around the feed lot, knowing their number will soon be called, wringing their hands and popping their knuckles out of nervousness.  I would.

So, when I found out pork knuckles make a fine meal in Germany, I had to check it out.  How many pig knuckles do you think makes a meal?  The answer is, one.

My mother is one of these people who loves life and everything included in it.  Everything she hears about, she looks up on the Internet.  The day will come when she will wear out the Google website and it will no longer work.  So I decided to beat her to the punch and look up pig knuckle first, while the site still works.

It turns out that a pork knuckle, also known as ham hock, is the area of the leg that is just below what I would call the knee.  It has ample meat and quite delicious, I have found.

We went to a place called Adolf’s, which has some of the best pork knuckles in Frankfurt, Germany.  They do not sell beer, but they have plenty of Applevine, which translates to “apple wine”.  They serve it in a large heavy ceramic vase with a bottle of carbonated water.  Mix a little of the water with it and it’s nice.  Actually, I found it a little stiff until I drank a glass or two, then it wasn’t so bad.  Kind of like having to listen to German music.

So, here are the before and after pics of the pig knuckle:

I’m currently in Frankfurt Germany, the land of my ancestry, for training, and will be here for two weeks. For many years I kept a German 10 pfennig in my pocket to remind myself there are other places in the world than Pampa, Texas.  I don’t know what happened to that coin, but I have never forgotten what it represented.

I will gain about 5 pounds while here; no probably 10.  I’m talking schnitzel, bratwurst and German beer.  With a diet of pork every day, I would get very fat if I stayed too long.  One associate told me, when he was posted here he gained 30 pounds.  I believe it.  The Germans themselves are an interesting lot.  The adults don’t yell when they speak among themselves like the Italians and Russians, but the younger ones are arrogant and noisy.  The natives are tall and big boned compared to other parts of the world, and the older women are quite robust.

The other night I sat having a salad at the nearest schnitzel house, when a stern German sat down at the other end of the table.  His movements remind me of a robot.  In staccato movements, he cut the meat, stabbed it with a fork, and placed the meat in his mouth then placed the fork down on the table while he chewed X number of times.  Then repeated the process for ever bite.  What’s more, I sense they do this purposely, not just a habit.  If I asked him why he ate that way, … well, ….  no telling what he might have said.

My boss is here for training also, and Sunday we decided to go sight-seeing  along the Main river where there are several large churches.  We came across one with a tall steeple and bell tower that we could pay 3 Euros and climb the spiral staircase to the top.  So we did.  All 328 steps in a dizzying spiral.  Up and then down.  I had to stop a few times to suck air before continuing.

It was amazing to see the sculpture of the building up close.  If you look at the picture below, you will see one of the many gargoyles mounted on the building.  Generally, gargoyles are used to hide the drain spouts.

It was truly awesome to look up close to the tool marks from centuries ago, that the builders left on the edifice.  I could see places they repaired the building, adding strapping where cracks were starting to form.

When I first arrived in Frankfurt, from the moment the plane landed, it took 4 hours exactly to get to my hotel.  I had a specific set of instructions posted by the hotel, on how to arrive to the premises.  They really made sense, because I took the time to study the public transportation system before arriving.  But as I realized, not everything is in English.  It took about an hour wandering around the train station at the airport, to figure out how to buy a train ticket.  I knew what train I needed, but the vending machine wanted to know my destination.  And all the destinations are in German.  No way to convert German names to English.  Finally decided to get into a long line at a counter to see if the people behind the counter could help.  Once I finally got the front and showed the gentlemen the info from the hotel, he said, No problem.  He clicked here and there and then said, 4 Euros, 20, please, and handed me a ticket.  I got on the train he pointed to.  It traveled so many kilometers then stopped. I had to get off.  Turned out I did not board the correct train and only ended up part way.  Had to figure out which train I needed to take me the rest of the way.

Using the old reliable Nolte intuition, I finally found where I needed to go and got to the next point I needed.  Then I had to board either bus number 30, or tram number 18.  The Nolte intuition failed me and I boarded bus number 18.  Not bus 30.  Not tram 18, but bus 18.  By the time I realized something was wrong, I was about a half kilometer off the route I wanted.  Grabbed my suitcase and jumped off at the next stop and walked back to the beginning. I did eventually arrived at the hotel and have since learned the peculiarities of the German system.  I learned that tram 18, somehow turns to tram 12 while you are riding it.

But the system is superb.  You can get anywhere in the city without a vehicle.  And the ticketing is just as unique.  You buy a ticket for where you want to go at one of the many vending machines along the routes, then you board the bus/tram/train.  No one verifies your ticket.  It based on the honor system.  They do have people who wander through the system stopping people and checking to see if you have your ticket.  If not, its’ a 40 Euro fine.

I’m sitting outside in front of the hotel as I work on this piece with the traffic passing by.  Very different from Addis, as there is a smooth transition of the traffic.  Compared to Addis, even with the traffic out here, it’s serene.  No hordes of pedestrians and no beasts of burden.  No honking and no beggars.  There are two sidewalks.  One for pedestrians and the other for bicycles.  There are enough bicycle riders in the city, that it’s best not to walk on their path.  I have to keep watching over my shoulder to see if a cyclist is coming to avoid being in their way.  But that’s a good thing in my book.

Just now, a friendly looking gentleman shuffled by with his cane, carrying his morning newspaper under his arm.

Frankfurt does have its bizarre moments.  Saturday, my boss and I went down by one of the metro stations to go through some of the stores in the area.  When we arrived at the station, there was a gay pride parade passing through.  Now I have seen some strange things in my life, but nothing like this.  I have seen aspects of this on the Internet and the News, but never in person.  Some of you will say, How cool!  I’d love to be there!  Well, I beg to differ.  When you see grown men wearing makeup and dancing around wearing nothing but ballet tutus, it’s not awe inspiring.  To make it worse, they all had lipstick all over them and not just their faces.  Some of the women were dressed in very little, and some dressed like barbarians.  There was a couple that looked like two bulldogs.  These were just the tip of the iceberg of what was out there.  Luckily I did not have my camera with me.

I didn’t stay around and watch, but had to walk through the throng of these people and their supporters to get where we wanted to go.  If these people have their lifestyles, so be it, but to flaunt it in a grand array just adds fire to those who find it detestable.  And the gay community wonders why not everyone supports their way of life.

Well, now I have a bad taste in my mouth.  I’ll upload this and then head to the Consulate for lunch.  Today I do not have a class, so I have time to catch up on some writing.

I just returned from the States from what I’d like to think, was a well deserved vacation.  Because of the wondrous equipment United Airline uses, a flight was missed in Frankfurt, Germany.  In the meantime I happened across a good friend who was also returning from points far away, so we sat together having a few beers while waiting for our flight.  About 4 feet away, a young girl came and sat in a booth, pulled out a book and had a plate of pasta to eat.  About 20 minutes later, a young man with straggly hair and dreadlocks, came and asked her if he could visit with her.  He was the type of kid that young girls would find attractive; one of those things I don’t understand, like kids walking around with their pants hanging dangerously low.

I worked in Afghanistan back in 2004, and it was drilled into me to be aware of my surroundings.  This is something that I have hung on to since.  I am also in the process of reading a very good book that all people should read:  The Gift of Fear.  So as I sat with my buddy drinking, I do notice what is going around me.  I noticed the straggly kid was walking back and forth for about 30 minutes before visiting this young girl.

When she first encountered him, I noticed a moment of unease on her face at first, but after sitting with her and they talked, she relaxed and dropped her guard.  Even though they were only 4 feet away, because of the noise I could not hear what they were saying, but by her relaxed face and his smile I sensed something was not right.  He kept smiling, asking her questions and soon they were both eating the pasta.  This kid was good.  He lightly picked at the food just to be sharing a meal with her, which told me he was not hungry.

I would not have slept well that night, aside from the damn plane, if I did not do something to interrupt this.  Whether he was going to get money off her, or completely lead her out of the terminal forever, I do not know.  What I did know for an absolute certainty, was this kid was not good for this young girl.

So I took a napkin, and reaching into my bag pulled out a pen.  It just so happened to be red.  On it, I wrote the following:

Even seen the movie “Taken” with Liam Neeson?  Think twice before you give him anything, even just information.

I stood up to leave and asked the young girl if she spoke English.

“Yeah, sure!”

Then I turned to the straggly kid who was afraid to make eye contact with me, and I asked him if he spoke English.  He made the little waving motion with his hand and said something about a little.  Then I asked him if he lived in Frankfurt?  He stumbled around with his words and never gave a clear answer.  I handed the young girl the napkin and walked away.  Later, while at the ticket counter, I noticed he was still sitting there with her.

I sincerely hope she was smart enough to politely tell him “No” for whatever he was after.  If not, she had been warned.